Faceless Shame
by Paintastics
Summary: Holmes explaining to Watson why he thinks shame is a useless emotion, while guilt is not - preferably in reference to homosexuality.  A conversation over tea quality which is, surprisingly, not at all slash.


**This was based off the prompt: **_Holmes explaining to Watson why he thinks shame is a useless emotion, while guilt is not - preferably in reference to homosexuality. _

**And though I wrote this with slashy intentions, it actually came out completely gen. so I thought I'd share it here as well. I know I didn't follow the prompt exactly but I really liked the challenge of exploring how _I_ thought Holmes would view homosexuality in an era where it was such a horrendous taboo. If there's _one_ thing in life that truly irks me, it's intolerance to what love really should be.**

* * *

"Holmes, did you heard about Inspector Markley?"

"I can't say that I have."

Watson picked up the paper from beneath his plate and tossed it to his friend. Holmes, sighing, looked at it lazily before finally retrieving and folding it back.

"Look there, beneath the bakery sales, do you see it?"

A small photo nestled between two heavy paragraphs, displaying an official portrait of a young man in his twenties. Holmes read the article quickly before settling the paper over his lap.

"Well?" Watson asked, shifting in his seat.

"Well what?"

"Holmes, they found him with a male companion last night in one of the darker districts."

"I don't know if you know this, my dear Watson, but male companions aren't anything new."

"You know what I mean, and you know what the article said."

"Ahh, but the article told me absolutely nothing. If one wanted to know the true story, one would have to consult Markley, not the paper."

"Yes, but still, it's quite a shame on his part. He should be more mindful of what he's doing."

"A shame, Watson?" Holmes turned to his companion. Watson shrugged his shoulders.

"Of course! And as a Scotland Yarder especially! It's a deplorable vice to give into and I imagine the man must not have been in his rightful state of mind."

Holmes locked Watson in his gaze at that. "And is that what you truly think, Doctor? Do you really consider him an abomination for what he did? After all, men of all sorts engage in much more deplorable habits than he; from what I've read, the companion was not a hired one."

"Yes, but still-"

"Shame is a useless emotion, Watson, and you of all people should take my word for it."

Watson looked at his flatmate in confusion. "Holmes, I don't understand..."

"I would never consider myself one amongst the collective, would you? No? I'm glad to hear you agree. Bearing that in mind, you must know that I don't follow the trends and thoughts of everyone else. I consider myself more along the likes of an outside observer." A pause, and then: "What are your attractions, Watson?"

"My attractions? Well I don't know, Holmes, it depends on the person."

"The _person_, my dear, that is exactly my point! You should not look upon a woman and immediately wonder if you shall end up marrying her, no more than you should look upon a man and dismiss ever falling in love with him."

"But love in such a case is different! I have met many girls in my life and not all of them have I thought of falling for. It is true that the mind will automatically assess; noting points of attraction while ignoring what is undesirable, but to fall in love with a man... what would be the point?"

Holmes sighed and stood up. "You surprise me with your density at times, Watson. It hurts to hear such naivety from your own lips."

"I am only speaking practically,"

"No, you speak from a biased perspective. I know of many people joined in marriage that died without children. From what you just said, I'd think you'd consider their marriage a waste."

"I do not."

"And why? My dear fellow, the only thing a man and woman in love can accomplish that two men cannot is children. I am asking you to delve deeper than that and really ask yourself if Markley was in the wrong."

Watson also stood from his seat and joined Holmes by the window. Looking over his shoulder he could see people in the street below them walking and talking as usual. He turned to face his friend.

"Holmes, you know I don't condemn the inspector. I simply question his actions."

Shrugging off the hand lain on his shoulder, Holmes responded, "His actions shan't be linked with shame. Least no more than the contact between you and myself. Oh, don't look at me like that. I'll have you know that my sympathies go out to Markley this morning and not to the general public who cries indecency.

"You see, love is such a simple thing once you get down to it, Watson; the only problem is that people don't like simplifying such an ideal. Weather conscious of it or not, men and women follow a set path with which they are to live their lives. When dealing with love we have almost no say; our minds are trained from a young age that boys will like girls and so forth. But why should that be? We are not a struggling race; children aren't our direst concerns any more. That a man will sometimes live and die a bachelor is no longer a shame to the family, depending on whom you ask." Holmes turned to his friend now, regarding him with a harsh eye. "And I don't mind confessing to you, Watson, that I've come closest to falling into hopeless infatuation with you more than ever with any woman. Do you think that disdainful?"

Watson stood awkwardly by the window, diverting his gaze from the detective. "I really don't know,"

"Why not? You were very quick to chastise Markley."

"Yes, but you're different, Holmes. You can hardly be considered with everyone else!"

"It's because I am your friend, Watson. More than that, you would never believe nor admit that I were anything less than proper. If I were to tell you I loved you, well, what then?"

Again there was a pause. Watson looked up to Holmes very briefly before his cheeks flushed and he was forced to turn towards the window completely.

"You wouldn't mind it, because you'd think it was special. Am I right in assuming so?" he asked quietly. "You look at our relationship as though it were something different, something unique. But did it ever cross you mind, my dear Watson, that others are capable of feeling this too? Every friendship and every lover is unique; the only difference between those men and ourselves is their bravery."

"So you do not think there is any shame?"

"Please, Watson, let go of your prior beliefs. Stay with me on this track and ask if there was anything wrong with it in the first place. The real shame would be for a man to wed a woman out of guilt for love of his friend. Guilt, Watson, that is what is worse."

"Holmes, you don't mean to say...?"

"Coming to realize you loved someone, no matter whom they may be, is never to be ashamed of if you truly honor them in your heart. Don't love a person because they have long hair, Watson, or that they could mother your children. Never look at it so carelessly. You must instead see with unclouded eyes and be shameless if only for that person."

Holmes regained his place next to Watson, who stood ridged at the glass window, allowing the sun to bathe his face in light.

Holmes continued. "Think about this instead: if you were to ever fall in love with someone you thought you ought not love in that way, what would you do?" No response. "I can assure you the worst crime you'll ever commit against yourself or any body would be to marry the first girl who returned your smile. Think about every time you looked into her eyes, not seeing her but seeing the one you truly desired. Think about the cold nights spent together when you really wish you were with the other person. Think, Watson, of the guilt you'd feel every time she said she loved you and you were _obliged_ to say so also."

"You seem to have thought about this a lot, Holmes."

"That is because the greatest shame upon my life was always being too afraid to speak freely. Do not think I am ignorant," He reached for the doctor's hand now, gently pulling it back so Watson was forced to face him. "What saddens me the most is seeing people live a lie; when they would rather live with guilt than to give into shame. Would you feel shamed for me if I were to fall in love with you?"

"Holmes, please..."

"You know what kind of person I am, my dear Watson. I don't build upon beauty and desire, and yet, you heard the word which so commonly substitutes those two, used in my regard to you... and myself."

Watson was looking fully at Holmes now, his eyes wide and mouth agape. After a few attempts and jumbling of his words, he was able to ask, "Are you truthful or simply setting an example? Because if this were a joke, then I'd seriously have to consider your sense of humor!"

"You know my sense of humor, and you know that that wasn't it. As I just demonstrated for you before, I will put to practice now. Watson, I am not a homosexual. I've never lain with anyone nor have I ever considered it. And yet here I find myself, shamelessly, telling you that I love you. Your face goes pale, but why should it? I don't plan to molest you in order to fulfill what desires I do not have. But I am able to admit that our friendship is something I've never had before nor will I ever again achieve; no matter who I may meet in life. What else can I call this than what it is?"

The doctor was silent for a time. Holmes looked at him, watching his face, his shoulders, and his hands. Seeing that Watson was reacting exactly as Holmes thought he would, the detective sat back in his chair with an air of satisfaction. Watson was capable of so much love, he mused. It would be ridiculous to let a little thing like fear allow him to scorn the one class of affection Holmes truly respected. Perhaps it was a bit straining to use himself as a model, but that's what his friend needed; a true example he'd be able to grasp and consider from both sides of the view. It was all part of the training involved in living with a man like Sherlock Holmes; a way of opening your mind and looking at things plainly first without biased opinion.

A frown still marring his face, Watson sat down to his now cold tea and reexamined the paper which started all of this. He contemplated the man's face, someone he had known and had actually talked to, and he knew wasn't a bad man. Perhaps it wasn't too outlandish to think that he's fallen in love with another _person- because is that not what women and men alike are? People, not standards?_ Perhaps they were even friends, much like Holmes and himself, only to a different degree. Watson thought this as he looked up at the man who sat across from him at the breakfast table. Though still not fully comfortable, he did feel a small twinge of a smile puling at his lips. It was nothing compared to the grin which cut across Holmes' face.

"I detect a change in my flatmate this morning, and I must say, I greatly approve!"

"Perhaps you ought to express what you told me to the police, Holmes." said Watson, laughing. "You could change their minds like you did mine."

Holmes chuckled light-heartedly, stirring around his coffee. "I have an open mind, but I'm not stupid. No matter how much I admire those brave enough to profess such feelings, I know that London isn't ready for it. But you, Watson, you I could help."

Watson nodded, tucking the paper beneath his arm. "I should have known, really. I feel like a fool now."

"Not a fool, my dear fellow, but a better, more knowing man."


End file.
